


Rapture

by deltachye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Doggy Style, Erotica, F/M, LMAO, Lemon, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Riding, Romance, Smut, can you even blame me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x wakatoshi ushijima]a feeling of intense pleasure or joy.
Relationships: Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 852





	Rapture

**Author's Note:**

> AUG 29 2020: I became aware that this story had been plagiarized. More information here: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/post/627770849607434240/hey-all-need-a-favour-ive-been-plagiarized-by  
> This is the original work.

It’s not like it’s easy dating Wakatoshi Ushijima, but he makes it all worthwhile.

You weren’t able to pick him up from the airport, having been caught in the middle of your last final exam. Screw the registrar; it’s like they _know_ when something important is happening. It was bad timing for several reasons, one of which being the obvious distraction. You had no choice but to keep your shit together in the freezing cold gymnasium, staring at your scantron while struggling with the task of not letting your mind wander to the fact that _Toshi’s coming home today_. You finished your exam, slam-dunked it onto your professor’s desk with the confidence that you at least had not failed, and practically sprinted home.

There were a few more days left during exam break before the Winter holidays formally begun. Your roommate had already taken off yesterday, meaning you and Wakatoshi had a couple days alone before heading back home. You tried to play it off while you waited for him, but your body moved on its own accord and paced rivets into the floor. Ever since he’d been acquired by Shweiden Adlers, Wakatoshi had been shipped off to Oita, and everybody knows Kyushu is kind of far as fuck from Miyagi. For a good long while, you wondered if it would even work. He was destined to be a big name from the start in Shiratorizawa, and you were more content keeping your head down to pursue a simple life. But love’s a funny thing, and when you’re even more head-over-heels in love with the same idiot you were head-over-heels with years ago, you know it’s working just fine.

The doorbell rings. You’d like to be cool about it and casually open the door, with a line like ‘hey, been a while!’ falling smoothly out of charmed lips. But you were very uncool about it and leapt over the couch, shrieking before you even opened the door.

“Wak—!”

He was kissing the words out of your mouth before your eyes could even properly register that he was here. He hadn’t grown any taller, but somehow, he felt so much bigger. His heavy duffel bag smacked against you as it followed gravity and slipped around his shoulders, but he held a tight grip around you, totally enveloping you. His jacket was still cold from the outside, as was his skin, but it took no time at all for warmth to rekindle between two bodies.

“I’m home,” he said, finally, after pulling away. Snow melted in his olive hair, darkening the tips to black. It framed his sharply handsome jaw. The tip of his nose was still red from his trip from the airport. His golden eyes shimmered with iridescence. Your smile hurt your face—he hadn’t changed at all, and you never would’ve asked him to.

“Welcome back.”

He dropped his duffel and wheeled his suitcase into your apartment properly, taking a short look around. It was humble, the best a university student’s budget could manage, but he wasn’t ever really the type to harp on details like that. His hands were cold and gave you a shock when he laid them on your lower back, yanking you towards him. Your foot stepped in between his and he kissed you again, forcing you up onto your tip-toes. You melted into him. He’d been an atrocious kisser in the start (not like you had any better credentials), but the two of you taught each other and learnt together, slowly and surely through awkward trial and error. Your thoughts crumbled, and the only thing present was him and his lips between yours.

A hesitant tongue swiped across your lower lip. It slipped past your teeth, running with hungry familiarity over the edges of your canines. You shivered, and it wasn’t from the residual cold left on his jacket.

“Wait,” you mumbled, breaking away and peeking behind him into the hallway. “The door.”

Without even glancing behind him he shot a leg out, kicking it closed with so much force the walls rattled. You jumped and glared at him.

“Hey, careful—!”

It was obvious that he didn’t have enough patience. He’d never _been_ a patient type, despite being quiet. His hands moved up to your face, cupping your jaw. You felt callouses that hadn’t been there before scrub roughly against your cheeks. Your fingers found themselves latched onto the front of his coat, clinging on desperately. A bubble of ferocity had apparently burst inside of him and his teeth cut into your lips, coaxing out a gasp that merely allowed him to deepen the kiss further. You couldn’t remember how he’d been so cold to the touch a few minutes ago. Everything burnt.

The pain ached fondly. Not remembering when, your hands had moved up to his hair, winding through the damp ends. It was still as soft as you remembered; how unfair for a dude to have such baby soft hair while you dealt with your dry split ends. You clenched onto fistfuls of locks with the same pressure he was using to bite you. It pulled the two of you closer together, if that was even possible. You felt it then, and it roused the raw bundle of hormones that had sat idle in your gut ever since his absence. He grew against you through his pants, his tongue lapping up all that missed time.

“Your roommate isn’t home?” he asked all of the sudden, his already deep voice taking on a husky quality as he whispered under his breath. It made a chill shoot down your spine and all you could do was nod wordlessly, still gasping to fill the fire in your lungs. Without a wasted millisecond he put his hands around your waist and hoisted you up easily.

“What?!” you yelped, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to support yourself. “Hey, Wakatoshi, you can’t just—!”

He dropped you onto the kitchen island when you started to squirm. You slammed your arm back behind you with the sudden deposit, the coldness of the marble giving you a shock against your warm skin. He advanced towards you, the obvious bulge of his erection grinding faintly against the vertex between your own legs. Your hips unconsciously bucked into him, drawing him closer. Sharp tingles like cool static rushed through your body excitedly.

“Do you have any objections?” he asked pointedly, giving you a look. “I haven’t seen you in four months.”

“I know, which is why I figured you weren’t going to jump the gun and… I dunno, do it all slow and romantic.” You put your hands on his shoulders, clicking your tongue. “My mistake. I forgot how petty you can be.”

“I’m not petty.”

“Yes, you are— _mmfgh_?!”

While distracted, you hadn’t noticed his left hand snaking up the inside of your thigh. You wore shorts inside for pyjamas, whatever the weather—but this habit had led to your downfall.

“ _This_ is petty behaviour,” you whimpered, and he only responded by sticking another finger into you.

Your head fell forwards onto his shoulder and you gripped them tightly with both hands, scrunching up the fabric of the jacket he still hadn’t taken off. Your legs criss-crossed around his hips, bringing him closer to the edge of the counter. Height gap bridged, you were actually close to his face for once, and felt the throaty sigh on your baby hairs.

“I missed you,” he sighed. Your arms twitched as he pushed further inside of you lazily. His hands, so large, had such great reach inside of you that you were reduced to a useless pile of mush in absolutely no time at all. It didn’t help that you’d spent four months sitting around alone, frustrated—hyper-sensitive to his touch, you practically cried when he pressed his thumb against your clitoris.

“Wakatoshi!” you all but wailed into the crook of his neck, your body tense. You could already feel how desperate you were for him, the wet surface of your inner thigh cold against the air. Your legs twitched around him. God, you missed him, and Lord knows he could tell. You could tell, too, judging by the hardness grinding against you. Even a guy like Wakatoshi Ushijima, whose head is full of fluff and volleyball, has carnal needs. And, a guy like Wakatoshi Ushijima doesn’t like to lose, and hates doing anything half-assed. This includes you.

You come wildly, your body jerking forwards into him as it spasms uncontrollably. Your arms tighten around him to ground yourself down to _something_ earthly. His other hand wraps around your waist and holds you steady until you’re finished, panting and teary-eyed. You unclench your jaw, not realizing you’d been biting your tongue to keep yourself quiet.

You look up at him and he looks down at you. You’re sweaty, red in the face and lips; his hair sticks up everywhere in cowlicks and his eyes are dark. Neither of you look particularly great right now, but you’ve never been so in love with anybody before in your life.

He stuck his fingers in his mouth, not breaking eye contact with you. It seized you in some sort of trance. You pawed at his sleeve, feeling impossibly toned muscles beneath. Wrapping your fingers around his arm, you use the last vestiges of your strength to scoot forwards on the counter, opening up your legs to press into his struggling erection.

“Can we go to my bed _now_?” you joked, but your voice is weak and breathy, and it sets him off more.

He says nothing but picks you up again. Lucky you for having a pro athlete boyfriend; you don’t ever have to put in any work! Wakatoshi kicked in your door—but is a little more mindful and just a tad bit gentler this time around. He set you down on the bed and busied himself with unzipping his many layers; you did the same, pulling off your t-shirt and your already soaked panties. While you slip under your blanket, he’s kicking off his joggers. Dark briefs hug carved quadriceps and hamstrings. He barely has to flex for the muscles in his arm and back to come alive, writhing under skin—and those abs? Even in the dim lighting, you suck in a breath as you stare unabashedly. You’ll never get over that body.

“I want you,” he said all of the sudden after he climbed into bed with you, so plainly he could’ve been asking you where you wanted to go for lunch later. “ _Now_. Okay?”

You blink in mild confusion, but then you realize it’s just his overly straightforward way of asking for permission. Always a gentleman. You grinned and sat up, hooking your leg over his hip and sliding over top of him. He had a surprised expression of his own as you flicked your hair out behind you, adjusting the underwire of your bra.

“Well then,” you said, clasping your hands together and tilting your head. “Please fuck the lights out of me, Wakatoshi.”

He gasped harshly through clenched teeth, the hiss barely audible despite the quiet room. You unclipped your bra and fling that to somewhere across the way, placing your palms onto his chest. His hands slid up from your pelvis to your breasts, cupping them delicately. As if the six-foot-something volleyball player could be anything but delicate. His touch sparked goosebumps across your arms and you reached back to pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your hair grazed his face when you leant over him, looking into his face. With one hand he released you and tucked hair behind your ear, adoringly moving it out of the way. It’s a soft, intimate moment, and you lean your face into the palm of his hand.

Your eyes fluttered shut when you finally sunk down and kissed him. It’s slow and sweet at first, but then you feel him shift beneath you, the tip of his cock sliding against your slick edges. He found your nipples, caressing you so gently it’s ticklish. When he rolls them between his fingers, it sparks a pleasure you could never describe in words. But when he enters you suddenly, it’s a burning pain, and you can’t help but wince into him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied. You’d forgotten just how monstrously huge this man is. You swallowed thickly and pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, which have grown deep with concern. “Just go slow.”

You know it’s going against everything he wants to oblige, but he does. Carefully, he rose up into you, spreading apart neglected walls. Meanwhile, you concentrated on your breathing, your eyelids twitching until you realize your hips are pressed together. You exhale shakily. He’s so fucking _deep_.

“[Name]?” he asked tentatively, the rumble in his chest felt through your fingertips. You nodded. His shifts his grip around you so that he hugs your hips. With strong arms he controlled you, raising and lowering you at an agonizingly slow pace. The pain fades once you hear his breathing quicken; his expression tighten. He wants you so bad and it’s taking every ounce of self-restraint he has not to slam his dick into you. You chewed on your lip, throwing your head back, feeling the weight of your own body draw him further into you.

“Wakatoshi,” you whimpered urgently. He takes it as an affirmative. Holding you at your hips, he sharply pulled you down as his hips jerked up, and you swear you see stars. You collapsed down into him, your face nestling into the pillow beside his head. The moan is wrangled out of you and your hands clutch onto his traps, fingernails digging tightly into taut skin. He’s reached his limit with you and grunts, a hand clapping down on your shoulder. He pulls you—hard—into him with the same force he uses to thrust up into you. It feels so impossibly good that you feel your thighs pathetically tremble at his sides. You think you come again on him, but you don’t really know—all you can think about is the current moment, the one where he’s screwing you so fucking intensely, with so much love and passion and viciousness that you’ve completely lost your mind.

At one point he pulls himself out of you and flips you over onto your front. You pulled yourself up onto fours, trying your best to collect whatever remnants you have left of yourself. His fingers wind in your hair and yanks your head up. You don’t see him, but you feel him; the kiss is messy in a dirty, good way. You placed your arms down and rested your head in the pillows, clutching your top sheet and closing your eyes. Your ass is undoubtedly hanging up in the air, pressing against him in a very vulnerable way. You’re left very open in a way where you might be ashamed. But it’s not like you have anything but trust for your lover.

Wakatoshi entered you, but by now your body welcomes him without complaint, and all you can do is choke into your arms. Each brutal propulsion makes you feel like you’re going to be flung into the headboard. Years of training and strength dominate you. There’s no nice way to put it—he pounds you mercilessly, ruthlessly, ignoring your warbled cries that mixed with animalistic moans of his own. It’s torment how much pleasure you feel. He grabbed your hands and wrenched them from the sheets that you’ve accidentally torn off your bed, locking them behind your back and driving himself into you harder. There’re tears streaming from your eyes at this point. _God._

It’s not exactly surprising that he hasn’t been with many people before you, if any at all. Your first time together was, simply put, a bad time. Lots of fumbling and apologizing and… yeah. But he’s a diligent learner, the type to never give up, the type to commit to repetitive training without a complaint. He’s a fast learner, too, because you’re pretty sure you come all over yourself yet again. He bites your shoulder and you whine. And again. You convulse beneath him, screams turning silent. And again.

“I can’t take it anymore!” you blurted out suddenly, somehow managing to pull your hands out of his grasp to raise yourself off the mattress. You turned back to look at him, knowing full well how much of a messy whore you look like with your snotty face and rat’s nest of hair. “I need you to come already.”

He paused, his chest rising with each heavy breath. His eyes took you in.

“All right,” he said. He’s never anything but agreeable.

He threw you onto your back, slamming the wind out of you. Strike that agreeableness. He’s going to punish you and you know it. On top of you, you see every contour of his face, every shadow of the lust darkening his countenance. His body’s heavy in a way that’d be terrifying if he ever fell on top of you, because that’s just how you’ll end up dying. With little care, he picked your right foot up, then your left, locking them behind his back.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to go on?” he asked wryly, the glimmer of humour making a surprise appearance as he looked down at you. He’s a beast with endless stamina, and if you didn’t tell him to stop, he never would. No way could you go on. You don’t think you’d be alive by the end of it.

Breathless, you merely pouted up at him. He got the message and delivered a short kiss to your lips. His head slid to the side and he rested his forehead against the pillow beside you. Teeth suddenly grasped your ear, clicking against your earring; you shuddered into him, moving your face out of the way of his deltoid so he doesn’t break your jaw.

“Toshi…”

It’s slow and deep at first, which is more bearable—but then his pace quickens, and everything becomes more frantic and less rhythmic. You doubt he needs any help finishing, but you give him a helping hand anyways, whispering hotly into his ear: _“I want you to fucking come in me”_ , “ _is that the hardest you can fuck me?_ ”. Classics that appeal to the competitive streak in him. One of his hands found yours and pinned it above your head, as if you could be any more helpless. His weight dug painfully into your wrist.

“I’m gonna—” he chokes out all of the sudden, turning his face into your neck. You never leave hickies on him, knowing he’s filmed all the time for the V-League—but you? Your chest is littered with red bruises, X-shaped and circular and blotchy and all over the place. He’s so inconsiderate, the way he digs his teeth into your neck and sucks hard. You can feel your face screw up as you try to take him. Good thing it’s winter and scarf season.

When he climaxes his gigantic body trembles, shuddering against yours. You don’t feel anything besides that, though you can well imagine what kind of throbbing mess is happening inside. He holds his breath, squeezing his chest to yours. Your legs, sore, fall to either side uselessly. His labored breaths synced to yours and together, they slow. It’s finally over.

Damn it, you realized suddenly. In the heat of the moment you’d forgotten to fetch a towel or tissues. Guess the two of you would have to do laundry to have anywhere to sleep tonight… You glanced to the clock on your night stand and did a double-take— _hours_ have passed?!

Ushiwaka, you really are some sort of monster.

He pulls out in a clean swoop, collapsing beside you onto his back. Even the athlete is breathing hard, hand on a sweaty forehead. You lie there, eyes closed, feeling yourself—for lack of better word choice—drain. You don’t have anything to worry about contraception wise, but the feeling of _him_ seeping out of you isn’t particularly pleasant, and the room’s also humid and reeks of sex.

“Sorry,” he mutters when he sees your face. You crack open an eye and glance at him, seeing that he looks genuinely apologetic. Your lips break into a dry smile.

“Hey, it looks like you _really_ missed me, huh?”

“Of course.” He props himself up onto his side and kisses your chest over one of the marks he’d left. It stings, though the ache is pleasant. He glances up to you with those angular eagle eyes, but they’ve softened. “If I had it my way, you’d be in Oita with me, and we’d be together every day.”

“Yeah, well. Then we wouldn’t be having this kind of bomb reunited sex. So, you win some, you lose some.”

“But all I want is _you_ … all the time.”

You finally look to him more seriously, seeing his calm expression that almost doesn’t pair with the seriousness of his words. Your heart explodes in your chest, warming you from your fingertips to your toes.

“I love you,” you say abruptly, but it’s shy. Every time you say it to him you get a little scared, in the beginning and even now. You can’t help it. He’s literally Wakatoshi Ushijima, and in your mind, you’re just that girlfriend. One day he might decide he loves volleyball most of all and drop you. One day he might find somebody else to love, way out there in that sports world you’re just a visitor to.

But he, the taciturn one, doesn’t hesitate in taking your hand and kissing the knuckles, breathing the words back over your sensitive skin with all honesty,

“I love _you_ , [Name].”

\---

“I’m gonna miss you.”

He adjusted the strap of his bag, juggling a passport and plane ticket and empty water bottle all at once. The two of you had come early, waiting around and exploring the airport together, but now it was actually time for him to go. You rolled him his suitcase, trying not to look gloomy, but you can’t help but be sad during these goodbyes. It never gets any easier, no matter how many times you say it. He tucked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up. To your surprise, he’s got a rare and unfairly attractive smile on his features.

“We’re going to see each other in a few weeks, [Name],” he reminded matter-of-factly.

“I know, but…”

You’d booked your flight to Kyushu months in advance, already having accommodations planned for the duration of the volleyball tournament. It was going to be an exciting trip in the South, especially since the Northern weather was still so unforgiving. Still, separating from the one you loved was hard, no matter the circumstances. You relayed this to him, frustrated, and he merely ruffled your hair.

“Don’t forget to get your ring resized.”

“I know. What, you think I’d just let it fly off my finger?”

“Ring sizes were hard. I did my best.”

“It’s okay. I’ll forgive you for not knowing.” Instinctively your fingers twitched to your hand to check that it was still there. You spun the too-loose ring around your finger, showing it to him dutifully. He nodded happily and looked up to the departure/arrival board. People milled around you, lining up for security.

“All right. I’m leaving now.” He’s always so formal, even with you, but you can’t help but find it endearing. Begrudgingly, you stepped up onto your tippy-toes a last time. He kissed you compliantly.

“Have a safe trip. Text me when you’re through security, and after you board. And when you land. And don’t forget to eat the stuff my mom made you. And don’t forget to call me when you’re home!”

“Always.” He touched your cheek, his rough fingers brushing against it. “See you soon, my love.”

Your face split into a smile, sorrow lost. “Yeah, see you soon.”

You waved at him until he turned around, heavily tossing his carry-on into the grey bin for the security conveyer belt. Once he’s fully out of sight, you lower your hands and press the left one to your chest, touching the gem of your engagement ring. Even though he’s left, your smile remains, and your love grows.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/


End file.
